by Kailin Gow
Conway nods, smiling.
It hits me all at once. How serious that really was. How close I came to death. While it was happening it felt like something out of a bad action movie – something that, like so much that's occurred over the past couple of weeks, was happening to someone else, not me. I knew I was in danger, but still somehow the pain and the fear seemed so removed from my everyday existence, like it was just a bad dream or something, like it wasn't really happening to me at all. But now it hits me.
You could have been killed, Sidney. That's it. Dead. Died. Over.
I could have been killed.
The knowledge of that bowls me over. Tears spring to my eyes. I stagger backward, physically overcome by the sensation of relief. They trickle slowly down my cheeks, wiping the makeup off with it, revealing my vulnerability underneath. “Thank you, officers,” my voice cracks and trembles. I wrap my arms around the police chief and hug him tight. I don't mean to do it. I don't even think about doing it before it happens. I just...surrender. To the feeling of relief. “I'm sorry – it just hit me all at once, that's all.”
The police chief looks at me with kind, sad eyes. He's seen a lot of women like me, I bet. A lot of whom haven't survived the machinations of the bad men who use their bodies as a way of gaining money and power for themselves. I guess I should consider myself lucky. I'm not a corpse, and the police officer gets to go home and sleep easily tonight: a rare night of relief in a job like this, I reckon.
“Just doing our jobs,” the officer says slowly. “Come on, let's round up these guys and get out of here. And leave these fine people be.” The others shuffle out behind him as they leave, leaving us alone in the warehouse.
No sooner are they gone than Johnson runs over to me. He wraps me in his arms, hugging me tight in a bear hug so complete and total I can barely breathe.
“Careful!” Philip says archly. “The poor girl's been beaten up and now you want to crush her?” His tone is light but I can detect a note of real jealousy and anger in his voice.
“Sidney, I was so worried about you,” Johnson ignores Philip's slight mockery. “I couldn't find you anywhere in the hotel after you left my room – I tried to call, text, everything.”
“I have a private suite with a hidden entrance door,” Conway says, furrowing his brow in confusion. “Nobody could have gained access – the security at MGM is killer. Not unless they had inside access to the hotel, or knew exactly what it is they were looking for...”
“Sidney...” Johnson's voice is shaking. There are practically tears in his eyes, too. “I'm so sorry. I should have been there with you. I should have been looking out for you. All night long. I should never let you out of my sight. Wherever you go, I...”
“Uh, she's okay...Mr....uh....” Conway's looking pretty confused. “Do you know this guy?”
Johnson and I exchange glances. Technically we were supposed to be strangers. That was our cover for this investigation.
“My name is Johnson,” he says. Evading the obvious question.
“Well, Johnson,” says Conway. “Sidney's with me now. She doesn't need anyone else looking out for her – I took care of her, didn't I?”
“By almost getting her killed!” Johnson almost shouts. His voice echoes from the rooftops. “And what do you mean by “Sidney and I are together” – she's not your girlfriend!” He looks at me. “Right?”
I don't say anything.
“Right, Sidney?”
He looks at me with plaintive eyes. I look back and forth: at Mitch and Philip and Johnson. Then back to Conway. I want to explain everything to Johnson right now, but I can't, not without blowing my cover.
“Johnson, I...”
“Just answer the damn question, Sidney!” He's never spoken to me like that. Not ever.
“Yes,” I say.
His face falls. For the first time in the whole time we've known each other, years and years, he looks miserable. Like he's about to burst into crying or punch someone in the face or both. I can see emotions taking over his face: I can see his pain. I want to run to him, to comfort him, to explain.... but I can't. Not without ruining my chance to get the biggest story around. The access that I'd get as Mitch's girlfriend would be invaluable for my career – not just in covering Mitch himself but in covering other celebrities. And anyway, it's Mitch's secret to keep, not mine – that it's all an arrangement. I can't let Mitch down by revealing the truth.
Life is crazy in this town, I think. One day you're covering the news, the next day you become the news. I'm Mitch Conway's new girlfriend. Just another piece of tabloid fodder for a place like Hot.
Just another Z-list celebrity hoping to make it big. One of so many.
“Oh. Okay.” Johnson doesn't say anything for a long time. He just stares straight ahead, not even seeing me.
Then Johnson's face goes eerily calm. Like it's made of stone or something. “Well,” he says. “I'm glad you weren't harmed, Sidney. I guess I'll see you back at the office, then.” It's the coldest and most impersonal I've ever seen him be.
“Have a good night, Sidney.”
And with that, he turns on his heel and walks out without another glance at me.
Chapter 4
The tears come springing to the corners of my eyes again. But this time they're coming for a different reason. I've done it now, I think – the thing I swore I'd never do, the thing I hoped I'd never have to do. I've hurt Johnson. My best friend, my lifeline, the one who was so loyal to me, who stuck with me all through so many heartbreaks and so much chaos, the person who single-handedly got me through the stress of being in college without a dime to my name, trying to graduate from J-school despite the fact that I could barely afford to eat. And I hurt him. I let him think that I had randomly decided to be Mitch Conway's girlfriend and – what's worse – that I didn't even have the courage or courtesy to tell him, first.
“Johnson,” I whisper. The tears are falling faster now: hard and fast onto the floor beneath me. “Johnson, no...” But it's too late. He's gone. He's stormed out in a huff: and I don't blame him. I fooled him. Deceived him. And I'm paying for it now.
I can't deny the truth any longer. However I might feel about Johnson, however much I may care for him, I don't love him. At least not in the way that he loves me. And he does love me. I can't pretend any longer, close my eyes to the truth because it is inconvenient. My best friend and I aren't Just Friends. I don't think we've been Just Friends for a while. There's a tension between us – sexual, sensual, romantic, whatever the hell you want to call it – that has given our friendship an edge. That was the real, true reason – wasn't it? – why I didn't tell him about Philip. Why I lied to him about where I was. Why I didn't admit that my sexual desires were my own – were strong and were important to me? If we were just friends, I would have felt comfortable talking to him about anything, even this. But we aren't just friends. And I knew that, didn't I, when I hid my relationship with Philip from him? And now I'm going to have to pay the price.
“Who was that?” Mitch is looking after Johnson, still confused.
“Her cousin,” Philip says roughly. He isn't looking at me either. My face is bright red from a combination of shame and shock and fear. “Now, Sidney, it's time to come with me.” A strong hand clamps down on my arm, kneading the flesh. The feeling is good – so good – that I almost moan aloud. I've forgotten how good it feels to have Philip LaFleur's hands all over me. I hope Mitch doesn't notice the fact that I've basically melted into a giant puddle in front of him.
“Come on, Sidney,” Philip says in that deep throaty voice of his that drives me absolutely wild. “It's time to go. We have work to do.”
“You work for him?”
“Sidney's my personal assistant,” says Philip. A nice save. Something that ensures Mitch doesn't figure out I'm a gossip columnist. Or at least, doesn't figure it out right away. “And she has some work to do for me.” He tightens his grip on my arm, leaving me in absolutely no doubt as to t
he kind of work he has in mind. My stomach plummets as desire makes my knees weak and sends tremors through my thighs.
“Hey...” Conway looks from Philip to me and back again. “I know you.”
“Do you?” Philip raises a light eyebrow.
“You're Philip LaFleur!”
Philip barely looks at him, barely acknowledges the guy's presence. “Yes,” he says archly. “I am. I don't need reminding who you are, either!”
“I've seen you a bunch of places!” Conway is like an over-eager kid, a fan. “You're at all those parties! You always look like you're having the best time – just doing whatever you want, nobody to handle you or harass you...”
“Almost nobody...” Philip says under his breath. He looks dangerous. And mad. Conway has no idea what he's getting into, I think.
“So, you're Sidney's boss, huh?” Clearly Conway doesn't get the danger he's in here. I almost feel sorry for him. “How about giving her some time off, huh? She's been through a lot – give her a break? I promise, I'll take good care of her...”
“No,” says Philip so sharply the sound is almost a snap. “I need her right now.” He grabs my wrist almost violently and pulls me close to him.
“Come on, mate. Let me spend some time with my girlfriend after she just almost got killed. How can you make her work at a time like this?” He's smiling, still, trying to laugh off his words as a joke. Little does he know that he is playing with someone who is deathly serious. Philip stares at him with eyes full of complete and utter disdain.
“Girlfriend or not, Conway, I need Sidney Stone with me right now. I'm sure she'll be in touch when she's able.”
“But...”
“That's enough, please.” And with that, Philip walks straight out of the warehouse, all but dragging me along with him.
“What the – hey, man, this is not cool, okay? Not cool at all!”
As we walk Conway's sounds of protest grow fainter and fainter. We leave the warehouse, Philip dragging me so roughly that my wrists start to bruise. Philip takes me to his Audi and wordlessly opens the door, all but shoving me in. Then he slams the door shut so hard I flinch. He gets in the driver's seat, glowering and staring straight ahead.
“Damn it, Sidney!” He punches the steering wheel. “You idiot – you absolutely fucking fool...”
“What are you...?”
“You have no idea what you got yourself into, Sidney. You have no fucking clue. What the hell do you think you're doing?”
“But Philip ---,”
“I don't fucking care, Sidney – don't you dare 'but Philip' me. After what almost happened. How could you be so stupid – getting yourself into a situation where YOU'RE the girlfriend. After his last girlfriend ended up with her face smashed in and beaten to a pulp. And suddenly you're his girlfriend? Even if he isn't an abuser, someone has a vested interest in making sure his girlfriends get two black eyes – what the hell do you think you were going to do? What the hell did you think was going to happen? You suddenly sign up with no warning or notice to be a girlfriend to an abuser? What is it – is he a better fuck than me, is that it?”
“Philip, you're acting crazy...”
“Is that your type, huh? Guys with more muscles than brain cells in their head?”
Now I'm mad. “PHILIP!” I practically scream it. “Would you listen to me for one bloody second?”
He says nothing but only glowers sullenly.
“You told me to get close to Conway. To do whatever I could to get the story – the story you asked me to get. What the hell makes you think I was serious about being his girlfriend? Are you so jealous – so insecure...”
“You make me crazy, Sidney,” he whispers under his breath. “If you could only know or understand how much.”
“I did what YOU asked, Philip. And nearly got myself killed because your intel was bad and didn't take into account the fact that something was seriously rotten in that guy's house. So don't you dare blame me for what happened or I swear, Philip, I'll get out of this car right now and you'll never see me again.”
We pull up to the MGM hotel. Philip says nothing but only sits in the car seat, staring straight ahead, a pained expression on his face – like he's holding something back. He sighs heavily and leans back into the car seat, closing his eyes.
“Nobody in my life has ever had an effect like this on me,” he says, his voice heavy and throaty. “Nobody but you. I don't know what it is about you, Sidney, but you make me crazy. You make an animal of me. You make me jealous, possessive – I who never once cared about anyone ever. I couldn't and wouldn't give a damn if a girl cheated on me – once I'd had my fun I was done. And now the thought of you with somebody else fills me with unimaginable rage. And the thought of someone else laying a hand on you to hurt you...it sickens me, Sidney. I sicken myself...”
He closes his eyes tight and lets out a deep sigh.
“Come on,” he says abruptly, grabbing my wrist and dragging me into the hotel lobby, into the elevator. It's empty.
The second the elevator door closes he's on top of me, pushing me up against the wall, devouring me with his deep kiss. Overwhelming me with the sensation of his absolute and inalienable need. This man wants me. He needs me to breathe. And the sensation makes me realize that I need him. He showers me with kisses – holding me, touching me, caressing me, keeping me close.
“I don't care if that buffoonish child calls you his girlfriend, his lover, his side piece or his whore. I know the truth, Sidney. I know how you melt against me. I know how your body responds to mine – and I know for a fact it doesn't respond like this to anyone else's. It can't. The chemistry we have – it's beyond all reason, Sidney. It's beyond all doubt. Nobody makes you feel the way I do. I know that. You know that. Or if you don't, I want you to let me prove it to you – once and for all. I am going to drive you wild and make you forget that any other man ever so much as touched you – do you understand me?”
We're at my room now, at my door. I hardly know what to say, what to do, how to feel. I'm angry and hurt and turned on all at once. My body is heating up; my skin is scorched by the full force of my need. How dare he talk to me like that – get jealous, possessive, like some crazy boyfriend? And yet knowing how crazy I make him makes me crazy too. Makes me realize that what we have is passionate, explosive, dangerous.
“Are you going to let me into your room or not?” he asks me harshly, kissing me deep.
I open the door.
Chapter 5
Animal attraction takes over. I am in his arms and he is in mine; I am in and of him. In the moments that we share, our mouths together, pressed tight, our bodies entwined and tangled together, our fingers laced through like latticework as he pushes me up against the wall, scratching my back against the rough stucco of the wall pattern and making me cry out with a heady blend of pleasure in pain. I have never been more on fire, more alive. My anger and my hurt are transfiguring before me; suddenly they manifest themselves as the most passionate and most delicious desire. I was angry at him, before, and he was angry at me, and now we want to take our revenge by wreaking havoc on one another's bodies, probing, testing, seeing how far we can go, how much we can do, how far we can push one another until one of us hits the breaking point and starts to scream.
This is no ordinary encounter, I know. At least, I think I know. This can't be how Philip is with everybody else – it just can't be! I know he has a history of being a playboy, of dating a model and an aspiring actress and any other number of a host of California “professional attractive people” every day of the week, but this feeling, I think, it has just got to be special. I can't imagine this intensity, this desire, existing between any other people in the whole world. In fact, as he kisses me and moves his hands up and down my legs, his fingers probing the sides of my inner thigh, I feel my head jerking back as I let ecstasy take over. I begin to forget that other people exist in the world at all. There's nobody else, I think. No Johnson, no Mitch Conway, no Kendall – nob
ody to get in the way of this experience, this happiness, this bliss. Nobody else exists, and the feeling is amazing.
I wish it could always be like this. No frills. No tricks. No “sir” this and “Miss Stone” that and no longing looks across the office floor and no assignments and no “I know you're my boss but” and all those complications. Nothing but the feeling of Philip LaFleur's chiseled, hard body against mine, dewy with sweat, muscles on a body that could break me or make me cry out in the greatest pleasure I have ever experienced – a body with so much power, so much promise.
“Sidney...” he leans into me, kissing my neck, nuzzling me as I moan. He moves his lips to my ear and begins to nibble on it – just a bit, just enough to make me cry out before he tugs at my earlobes with a playful nip.
“Philip!” I half-laugh, half-sigh.
“You're so beautiful,” he murmurs. He's staring at me with that intense piercing blue gaze of his: his eyes are on me, all over me, feasting on me, devouring me, and I feel him take over, feeling him knock me off kilter and make my mind go blank. “In fact, I think you're the most beautiful girl – woman – creature in the whole world. I've been all over the world, Sidney. I've known a lot of women. California blondes and Vietnamese women with long dark hair. I've had mistresses in Afghanistan and in New York – married women, single women, pairs of twins. I've been insatiable – afraid of my own insatiable appetites. But something about you, Sidney. I don't know what it is. When I met you, all my energy, all my desire – desire I used to want to share across many women – became intensely focused on you and you alone.” He bites my lip suddenly – hard – and I cry out in surprise. The feeling is good. Too good. He's bruised the lip where I've been punched but I don't even care, that's how good it feels. “Does this frighten you?” He slams me up against the wall. “Are you afraid of this?”
